


The Sleepy Chronicles: Books of Doubt

by majestymax



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Plague, Based On Various Different Fanart, But there is even more violence, Dadza, Dream is basically Herobrine, Dream will pay for it in this fic, Found Family, From Tumblr of course, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Torture, Many farms, Niki is a water nymph, Only the best Philza, Psychological Torture, They are the exact same, ahaha, as she should be, farms, he's trying his best, horrible death that was, no beta we die like tommy, prove me wrong, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, your welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majestymax/pseuds/majestymax
Summary: The world is broken, plagued with nightmares and horrors alike. Among the few survivors, Phil and his small family flee from the country - desperate to leave all the mourning behind. And in the wake of his sons death, a small child is brought to him from a monster of a dimension unknown. This child, whatever it may be, holds more power and mysteries than anything before. In return, Phil promises to protect it, shielding it from all the monsters and demons of the world.A series of love and hate. Terror and peace. Noise and silence. Philza hurdles through the responsibilities of fatherhood as he fights to keep his sons safe and his home quiet. And every time all seems well, a forgotten tyrant, with a corpse refusing to rot, haunts them once again.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Entry One: things and monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I said that my next fic will be out soon? Turns out that was a lie. It took a lot from me to write this because I wasn’t happy with anything I wrote. I’m not particularly keen on this chapter, but hey, I need something to do. With that being said: enjoy reading!

It was a mess, everything. The world had been a mess for a long time, really, but this time seemed unforgivable. It truly seemed as though the country, once so powerful and mighty, had met a demise so distasteful. 

The SMP was littered with lazy graveyards, built in a haste as those few survivors worked to flee quickly. Buildings were abandoned and castles were destroyed. The roads were cracked from roots and weeds, and the waters were brown with mold. It was a horrible scene their home was. Phil knew this as everyone else did. 

He was a man of high honor, even among the scarce living. Phil was known as the country elder, dealing with issues too complicated for the ordinary to deal. He was respected by kings and serfs alike, earning him praises here and there. A man of such honorable duty was sure to have an honorable family. 

His sons had been young when it all happened. Techno had hardly begun in the arena when the government fell. Tubbo and Tommy were still too young to walk properly, and Wilbur still sucked his thumb. It was overwhelming in its own, but with a plague spreading and a country screaming, it was all too much. 

By the fourth moon of the sickness, nearly everyone was dead. Phil remembered just as well as his eldest did - bending in front of their old coach, caressing the pale cheek of Wilbur. The boy lay cold and frail, the only sign of sanity hidden underneath closed eyes. His arms were limp and his toes were curled. He hadn’t spoken a word for days. 

“You’re welcome to join me,” Sam, the man monster had suggested, “with your son ill and the babies struggling, I am happy to help you.”

They were standing in front of the small hut, sheltering from the winters pierce. Phil gave his friend, more monster than anything else, a sad smile. 

“We’re not staying here for long.”

Black clouds erupted from Sam’s copper mask as he nodded and turned his heel. Sam had his issues already. A dying boy and his brothers were to not be included. 

King Eret died the next morning. It all happened very fast. Series of revolts engaged and kidnapped the dead king’s council, and rebellions emerged in rebelling villages. Phil packed to leave on that night, ushering Techno to gather his things and tend to the babies. They planned to run from the country on that night, and all was set had Wilbur not died in the hours of the dawn. 

There was little time for hassle after that. A letter to Sam was sent by raven, and the small mourning family left by afternoon. Techno was crying for his brother and the twins were crying for their food, but Phil tracked to leave. It was so quick. 

And now, huddled in a mountain cave miles from the SMP, did the weight of the world finally crush Phil. His son was dead. His home, his nation, burned. His family, those that remained, complained of feet and heart aches. Phil, an honorable man by nature, finally broke down. 

And so the tales of the Sleepy Chronicles began, built from the ashes of death and written from the tears of mourning. It was a confusing world, swallowed whole by tragedy and misery. What more did it have to offer?

### Monster of Caves and Darkness

“Angel of Death,” a distant woman, one blurred by faint memories, “what a proud name.”

“Why am I called such?”

“I do not know, my son, but you'll grow to live up to it,” the woman, presumably a mother, said gently. 

Phil, a young Phil, frowned. “I don’t like death! It’s messy.”

“As is life, my dearest.”

“I should be the Angel of Life! That sounds so much better,” the young boy pouted. 

“Don’t be so sour, dearest. This is your fate written here. You’ll come to terms with it eventually.”

A dream. Another one it seemed. They were becoming more regular. Odd dreams were fine normally, but he hated the ones that reminded him of what once was. He wanted to see what could’ve been. 

Phil rubbed his head. His back complained, and for good reason. His family had spent days cramped in the mountain cave, sleeping on whatever debris the forest had to offer. It was no question when his body began to protest. It was highly uncomfortable. 

He looked to his boys, who were sleeping as soundly as their loud worlds allowed. Techno wore a frown, even in sleep, and nuzzled close to his infant brothers. The twins were wrapped in soft fabrics, the tip of their noses pink. The warmth of the cave let them sleep long enough for Phil to collect breakfast. 

Life in a cave was no better than life in a broken nation. They slept on the ground, then worked all day to find fire fuel or scattered survivors. At night they ate and fell asleep. It was a slow life, easier had it not been for the position of death still fresh in their minds. 

Wilbur was dead. 

And the thought killed all of them. Phil distracted himself by raising to his feet and leaving the cave. 

They were in the middle of swampland, some distance from an empty village - deserted by the ill and the living. The air smelled of rot and the waters were no better, but they held fish, making it the most suitable settlement. They were lucky to find a cave so nearby. 

Phil picked a bow from the quiver the leaned just on the mouth of the cave. His bow needed mending, and his mind was too foggy to deal with something so fragile. He would work on it when he was better. His daggers and swords were no better. They needed to be sharpened, but Phil was too tired to do anything about that. An arrow would have to do. 

He approached the swamps hastily, looking at the murky waters for anything worth while. Catfish were nasty little buggers. They were as stubborn as anything else, burying themselves in the dirt before you had a chance to leap on them. It was always a mess to catch one, and given the early morning and cold water, Phil was in no particular mood to wrestle with wildlife. 

A glimmer of whispers poked from a cloud of mud. Then eyes, then a body. A sizable fish swam stupidly near the shallow dip of the swamp. It was right there, close enough to head every breath Phil took. 

He had to be careful. 

He approached easily, moving like a their, bow in hand. It was so close, so easy for him to lunge like a cat and stab it thought the heart. It seemed so silly, to bring back breakfast and start a fire and do some good for his sons....

But nothing was ever too easy right?

A force knocked him back suddenly, making him trip in the water and scare the fish back to the mud. He grunted in pain and loss. Damn him! Whatever could’ve done such a thing?

Looking to see the source of disturbance, his throat tightened and his body went numb. A monster stood in front of him, watching him with purple eyes that bled through his head like knives. He scrambled for his weapon belt, desperate to grab whatever he could find. He left everything at the cave and his bow was lost in the mud. Damn him! 

What a way to die! 

“Angel of Death,” a voice neither man or woman said. 

He screamed. 

“Angle of Death,” the thing repeated, “I’ve been searching for you.”

He screamed once more, “You know my honorifics. How?”

The monster nodded. It was terrible. As tall as a tree, as mysterious as a shadow. It had a jaw of a werewolf, and eyes of the moon it howled to. It was an enderman, as Phil had learned from the SMP’s library. They were not common, especially in a place of water. And this one was holding something. Something that looked an awful like a ...

“I know much about you,” it said, “and I am here not to startle you, but to talk.”

Phil was still in the water, his shirt thoroughly soaked through. “I don’t talk to monsters.”

“Angel of death,” it’s voice echoed horribly, “it is a demand. I am here to fulfill what was always meant to be done.”

“Terrible thing, what are you talking about?”

The monster bowed its head, “I am a monster of caves and darkness and I am not supposed to be here. But the world has called us both together, and told us to complete what has been started.”

What a way to die! He needed to find a weapon...

“What are you talking about?”

“The prophecy of dreams and nightmares,” the enderman said sadly, “has called you forward as a father.”

Phil’s stomach turned and curled. “I am a father, creature of caves and darkness.”

“And a good one at that. You lost a child, and we saw, and we mourned. But I’m afraid that your purpose must be continued,” it extended its arms - very very long arms - to reveal something wrapped in fabric, “and I’m afraid to press such duty on you. But the god have spoken, and the angels have answered.”

Phil moved further from the monster, “I’ve heard of no such things. I pulled from the -“

“And the council understands. But they found you as the most suitable. Besides...he is safer with you than anybody else. 

Gods and Lords. It was a child! The thing wrapped in the monsters arms was a baby! One of the same size as the twins, and one who was sleeping just as soundly. The monster’s cold eyes seemed to swim with concern and guilt. 

“The boy is most important than anything before him. He is hunted by dead and living. He is not safe with me - he is hardly safe with you - but at least he will be happy.” “Dear gods,” Phil breathed, “I’m doing no such thing! I need to wake up!”

“Angel,” the monster demanded, “you were meant to comply. You refuse and we are all punished.” 

“By who?” He pleaded. “I have no idea what is happening! I am asleep, I tell you. The cold has finally gone to me...” 

“Angel,” the monster bellowed, “we are here to fix a prophecy. There is an evil entity, hungry for power, looking for my young son. He is not safe with me.”

“He is not safe with me either! Take him back!”

“We cannot bend fate. This world has seen the future. It has seen what both you and I will become. It has seen that there is no way out of this...”

“My sons! I need to get to my sons!”

“...you will be cursed with such a burden for as long as he may live, and refusing will do such horrors otherwise...”

Phil moved in the mud and water. “My sons,” he rambled, “my sons. My sons.”

“Angel!” The monster now seethed with anger, it’s eyes breaking to a hallow, deadly stare, and its body shaking in irritation. “Take the boy and keep him protected! This cannot be undone.”

“We only just arrived. We’re only resting here. We’re tired, monster of caves, and we’re in need of food, monster of darkness. I can’t take care of a fourth child again. My hands are old.”

“The gods have seen you as the most suitable. You have been laced to this destiny for as long as your heart was laced to your body. You are bound to comply, Angel of Death. So please, let me present to you my son.”

Phil sat in complete petrifaction, his body beginning to shake against the cold morning. The monster did not budge either. 

“I cannot touch water,” it said. 

“O-oh. Of course.” 

He scrambled to his feet, a bit awkwardly. He should’ve ran, yelled for his boys to wake, ran to the edge of the world. He should’ve gotten away. But he was intrigued, and his destiny was to be fulfilled. 

The child wrapped fabric had his face hidden, but it slept like a human boy and sounded like a human boy. He felt like a human boy in Phil’s arms, and it warmed his heart like a human body. Phil looked to the sad monster with dread. 

“It won’t be easy,” the father started, “but I suppose it won’t be impossible either. I can’t promise luxury, but I can offer safety. Dear monster of caves and darkness, what will become of this infant?”

Purple sprung from the feet of the monster. “More than you’ll ever know,” it said, “when this child grows old, tell him what his mother is. Tell him what he is to do. Tell him who he was meant to be. Tell him not to look for me.”

“And if he dies?”

“Then it will be a death more honorable than any hero.” And the thing vanished.

### A name of truth and sorrow

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“How old is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does he have a twin?”

Phil sighed. It had been three days since the encounter in the swamp, and the family remained in the mountain cave. No other talking monsters or their children came to disturb them. 

Three days of peace. 

Three days of confusion. 

Three days of Techno’s endless array of the same questions. Of course he asked questions. He was a boy. But his father had questions of his own. 

The child was no human, that was obvious from the start, but it was unidentifiable in every other way. The only half that made sense was the enderman, and even then it was confusing. 

The unidentifiable half was something Phil could not seem to figure. Ghast? Skeleton? Some other horrible demon? It was ridiculous, the entire thing. He was cradling the twins and their mutant brother. Maybe he was sleeping. 

“Where’s his mom?” Techno asked. He was the only thing keeping Phil from falling asleep, whether that was a blessing for a curse. 

“I don’t know.”

“How about his dad?”

“Techno-“

“It has to have someone, papa! It has to have parents.”

“I am the parent, boyo.”

“But he doesn’t look like you.”

Phil smiled, “Neither do you.”

Techno frowned and stomped to the corner of the cave, where he entertained himself by drawing on the dirt. The babies in Phil’s arms were sleeping, as that’s all they did during such infancy. It would’ve not been difficult had one been given to him on a spur. 

It all felt like a dream. 

“Techno,” Phil called,” come take Tubbo. I need to tend the fire.”

His eldest obeyed, trotting to his father as the two struggled to balance the babies between them. Once the deed was done, Phil juggled with the fire. 

“What if we get more kids?”

“Hm?”

Techno poked his stick to the cave wall, “what if another thing comes up and gives you another son. What if I have more brothers.”

“Then we’ll have more things to take care of, boyo.”

Techno rocked the baby in his arms. “I want another brother.”

“You say that now -“

“But I mean it! There were hardly any children at home,” he whined. 

Phil did not answer. He didn’t even look up. There had been other kids. They were dead. Techno lived his life in an empty nation, distraught by tragedy. 

“Hand me the knife, boyo.”

Techno did as he was told, holding his brother against his hip. He watched his father gut a fish, peel the scales, rinse the carcass, and prepare it for the flames. He watched it until Phil found his arms occupied with children again. 

“Dad?”

“Hm.”

“What are we going to name him?”

“What?”

Techno moved closer to spy on the young monster. “What are we going to name my monster.”

“That’s the least of my worries, Techno. We’ll call him something once he gets older.”

“That’s no fun. I’m calling him something.”

Phil turned the fish, “Okay.”

Techno thought for a minute too long. “Rocky.”

“No.”

“Hey! You’re not supposed to care,” Techno pouted and thought some more. “Water.”

“No.”

“Ice.”

“TechnoBlade, go fetch the bottles.”

“Coffee!”

“Techno-“

“Rain!”

“Blade-“ Phil was exhausted. 

“Oh I know!” The boy exclaimed, “Rainbow!”

“Rainbow?”

“Uh-huh.”

The sleeping child stirred soundly, deep in a dreamless daze. Phil rocked him against his leg, turning the cooking fish against the fire. 

“Ranboo,” he said distantly, “we’ll call him Ranboo.”

“Ranboo?” Techno wrinkled his nose, “Why would we call him that?”

“Because that’s his name. Now sit and eat, don’t make a fuss.”

Techno obliged, his face still twisted in distaste. The infant boy, Ranboo as he would have it, slept silently throughout the night.


	2. Entry two: young and fragile

### The time spent

It had been two years since the encounter at the swamp. In those passing years, not another monster approached them, not another monster spoke. They fought as monster did, snarling and snapping at the lonesome family. They showed nothing but disdain, and violence, and aggression. Mindless things they were, and the encounter at the swamp was buried within the mud and water. Sometimes it seemed like a dream. 

The mountain cave had become a hassle with the moving time. The children were getting older, and the monsters were getting more frequent. They could not settle in such a place, so they spent months tracking across terrains for something more suitable. The pilgrimage was a horrible journey, infested with news of the dead and corrupted. They were met with nothing but old villages abandoned by fear and untouchable by disease. Every place was infected by plague and malice, surely no place for young children. So it took months of wandering, aching feet, and empty stomachs to finally settle. 

A small village, far from anything else, hidden behind the bend of a mountain, housed the family. Disease had not touched the small community, but paranoia did. There was not a soul in sight. There were no signs that there had been souls for many years. 

“Smells like cabbage,” Techno, of only six years, had complained. 

“You eat cabbage, boyo,” Phil said, “now don’t fuss more or you’ll wake the babies.”

They chose the only house with a functional furnace, all the others had been chipped away in desperation for stone and iron. Even then, the boys were not allowed in the room when the furnace was running. 

The house was cold and empty, they all were, but when surrounded by dust and scrapped furniture, the area just seemed colder. There were small piles of small blankets in a cabinet, and it would’ve been helpful had the blankets done there purpose. They were nothing but thin furs, useless to a freezing child. The family prior had left wardrobes of clothes in a hurry, leaving them scattered here and there about the room. Phil carded through the garments of clothes, eager to find something worth while. 

“It’s cold, dad,” Techno said. He was sitting on the bedroom mattress, watching his father card through the littered garments. 

“I know. Just let me look for a minute. Here,” Phil handed him a large coat, “use this.”

Techno wrapped himself in the blanket, melting into the furs. 

“Is this our home now?”

“For now, yes.”

“Are we safe here?”

Phil stopped working for a second, “I hope so, boyo.” Then he continued, “But that’s why we need to be attentive of our surroundings. Yes? We need to be ready for anything.”

“Anything?”

Phil smiled at his son. “You’re a strong boy,” he said, “we’ll be safe with you around.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

In truth, everything was getting worse. Since the arrival of the new baby, monsters were more frequent. They showed in places they didn’t normal appear, and fought in a savageness they weren’t supposed to posses. Phil suspected a disturbance of nature - but had it to do anything with his sons he did not know. 

The monsters were angrier. 

And his sons were older. 

That was all he had time to know.

### Something to Avoid

Phil always made a mention of keeping from his brown bag. He kept it slouched on his bedside near the window. He kept it untouched, and hardly went to the room to grab it. But no matter the number of times he neglected it, Phil always told his son to stay away. 

“Why?” Techno had asked one day. 

Phil was making a soup. Another ghastly soup. It has been the third of the week, and it was obvious that resources were dwindling. With each passing pot, the soups were becoming more and more disgusting. 

“Because you’ll hurt yourself,” Phil had answered. 

“But you said I was strong.”

“And I never said you were invincible.”

Techno thought for a minute. “What does invincible mean?”

“It means you can withstand anything,” Phil stirred the horrid soup, “and nothing can hurt you.”

“But a bag can, right?”

The father sighed and said, “I say that you cannot touch the bag and I expect you to listen -“

“But I am listening! I haven't touched it!”

“- and here you are, questioning my words.” Phil paused and leaned against the counter, eyeing his son. “Trust me when I say this, boyo, but looking into the bag will do you more harm than good.”

Techno crossed his arms and frowned. “It can’t be that bad.”

“And you may think that at first,” Phil agreed, turning back to the dinner, “but we hold greater demons than others, and I don’t wish to hurt you with mine. Come and eat a bowl.”

Techno looked to the soup then to his father. His nose wrinkled as he said, “I’m tired of soup.”

The conversation swam in Techno’s head for days as he slept. The nights passed and the babies cried, but the brown bag kept to its position on the bedside. Phil worked around his family, catching rabbits and skinning fish. He dunked clothes in water and hung socks and hats to dry. He swept the floors, plucked the apples, and fought the monsters. He closed the windows and locked the doors and kept his children safe. It was a silent life, but Techno never get the strange brown bag out of his head. 

If it was so bad, why did his father keep it? If it was dangerous, why was it out in the obvious? If Phil never wanted Techno to hear of it, why did he mention it in the first place? What did it all mean? And how could Techno figure it out? 

Days after the conversation, when the air was crisp and the house was warm from the oven, Techno found his father sleeping at the dining table. The young sons, all three of them, rested about him, all bundled in furs and fabrics. Ranboo, the brother Techno didn’t quite understand yet, was held in his father’s arms. 

Phil looked exhausted. Even in sleep. 

Given the opportunity, Techno was always one to take it. So he slipped in his father’s bedroom and scanned through the moonlight for the brown bag. It rested in the same spot, and it looked all the more inviting and all the more untouchable. Something within Techno ached as he neared and touched the flaps of the bag. The material was much more rough than he had imagined. 

As cautious as a hunting cat, the boy raised the flap and opened the bag. His stomach churned in anticipation and his heat rattled in anxiety. The bag opened and opened and opened, until he could finally see what was so previously hidden inside...

There were no demons, or monsters, or weird things. In its entirety, it was all very underwhelming for Techno. He had expected to be knocked to his feet, strangled by some dimensional being hungry for his blood. But he got, instead, a bag of weapons. 

Weapons? 

Daggers and knives and arrows. They were packed in leathers, shielding their blades from cutting through the bag. They were thrown in no particular order, all tossed around to make another terrible, terrible soup. Techno wrinkled his nose and scowled. 

“Why would father hide such a thing?” He asked himself and grabbed a knife. He uncovered the blade and gasped, dropped the weapon to the floor. It clattered on the wood and echoed through the halls. For a minute, Techno thought he was finished , that his father was to find him snooping where he wasn’t supposed to be, and send him to the monsters outside. 

But there was not another noise through the house. 

The knife on the floor glowed like a jewel in the riverbed, flashing against the waves and the sun. It vibrated in purples and blues, nearly blinding Techno as he stared at it against the dark room. It was beautiful. It was strange. It looked dangerous. 

He didn’t know why he touched it again. He should’ve put it back it the bag and ran off to bed, but something within him protested otherwise. And in a minute of unprecedented fury, Techno was outside in the cold, just a few feet from the house porch. 

The wind was nails on his face and his fingers numbed immediately, but the knife was tight in his grasp as he approached a tree. Poor tree. Poor, innocent tree. It could not resist as a boy, high on curiosity and restlessness, playing with his father’s knife like it was any other wooden sword. Techno dances and pranced around the tree, sparring the blade like a knight in armor. He giggled and laughed, challenging the tree in endless battles of clumsy duels, one that was surely to result in a lost finger. 

The young boy played in the twilight, his purple knife illuminating against the darkness. He was unaware of the monsters that prowled miles away, or the moon that offered little protection, or the carelessness of his cheers and laughs. But most of all, he was unaware of the thing watching him. 

Whether monster or shadow, dream or nightmare, real or fake, something lurked behind the forest. It watched the boy, the way he swung the knife and drove it into the tree, the way he laughed in victory, the way he jumped from the ground when he tripped. This thing, of no eyes or of only eyes, watched until the boy grew tired and walked back into the house. The night wore on, the moon hung, the stars dwindled, and the thing still watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is shorter! These first few are just world builders, but I promise that they’ll get better as we move along. That being said, thank you for the love! It’s so nice to see you guys enjoying this and I appreciate every single one of you. See you in the next one. <3


	3. Entry three: toads and bay leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another two years pass, and Techno is finally prepared to do the thing he had been so anxious to do. The younger ones learn to be trouble, and in an effort to clear his head, Phil meets a stranger.

### Goblins and Teeth

It became a pastime for Techno, sneaking beyond the house whenever his father dozed off in some inconvenient place. He would experiment a new weapon every time, and found that he was easier with some rather than others. It was always the same tree, which was soon ornamented in an uncountable amount of slits and slashes - all the height of a young boy. 

When he had turned eight, his father brought him to the main bedroom and presented him with an iron sword. Techno had never held such a thing, despite the years of playing with enchanted objects behind him. Years worth of sneaking out with such weapons soiled away as he was given the sword of iron. It was sentimental, the old thing, and Techno found himself at a loss for words as to why his father would allow him to hold something so precious. 

"I-" he breathed, the words caught in his throat and making it dry. 

"Don't bother thanking me," Phil raised a hand before his son could finish anything, "as it is only my duty as a father to teach you."

"Teach me?"

Phil glanced at the sleeping triplets, as they now were called, and hurried Techno through the back door. "You are of age boyo," he explained, "and I know that I've been hesitant in the past, but you're getting older. I'm getting older. Life won't be much easier after that."

Techno wondered at the tool held in front of him. It was dingy, carrying the weight of years worth of labor. The handle was worn and ripped and the blade needed sharpening. It was perfect for him. Phil took his silent shock as means of continuing. He pulled out his own sword, one that was larger and brighter, and turned it in his palms, letting Techno marvel at its reflection against the sun. 

"This is a diamond sword," Phil said carefully. "Diamond is a rare element, one that is found hidden in caves, as you learned from your books. Diamond is very strong, you see, one of the strongest things out there. But it is also very dangerous."

In a single swipe, one so quick it was nearly transparent, Phil moved the sword to cut a low branch of a nearby tree. 

"Great warriors and fighters are accustomed to diamond swords and tools. They are expensive to make and purchase, but they last a long enough time to make it all worth it. Now this one," Phil pointed to the iron weapon in Techno's grasp, "is made of iron. Iron is infinitely more common, found anywhere you can see caves and mountains. That doesn't mean that the iron sword is any less helpful. Most people begin with iron."

Phil showed Techno how to properly position himself. He tilt Techno's chin here, raised his elbow there, moved his foot a little to the right, turned his wrist a little to the left. Techno stood ready in front of Phil, an embarrassingly uncomfortable scowl across his face. 

"You'll get used to it," Phil chuckled. 

"It's so...awkward."

"You are too stiff. You're going to faint if you keep locking your knees, bend them like I told you - there, good - and keep that elbow high. See? It gets better after a minute or two."

Techno grumbled, "I don't see why I can't just get right onto it. What's the need for positioning all up anyway?"

"The need," Phil mimicked Techno's stance with his own sword, "is to defend yourself. You do something wrong, and you'll end up old like me a lot quicker. You don't want yourself getting sore and irritated in the middle of battle. We can't afford a twisted ankle. Now watch me for a minute."

The sun burned and birds soared. The trees rocked in the wind and the grass danced. Techno and Phil practiced until their knees burned and their elbows dipped. Beads of sweat lined their foreheads and their hair was damp in it. Phil fanned himself with his hat, then slouched against a tree besides his son, who had his head between his knees, holding himself close as he tried to steady his breathing. Phil rubbed his back and looked at the dropped swords in the grass.

"Did I do well?" Techno asked. 

"You did..." Phil thought for a minute, "very well." There was no dishonesty behind his voice, only the painful edge of uncertainty. It cut through the young Techno as a blade, making his breath rise and his heart thump. 

"I wanted to be good for you. I thought I did good."

The hand rubbing his back stilled as Phil sucked in a breath. "I am still weary, Techno. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you to get hurt. Please try to understand my confliction while I figure out yours."

Techno did not answer immediately. Instead, he tucked his chin in his arms and picked at the weeds. The day was fading, and soon it would be too dark for anyone to safely wander. They had to get inside. 

"I am proud of you, boyo, more than anything in this world. But... I'm also scared."

"Why?"

Phil voice quivered, "Because I've seen warriors fall. I've seen the way they become consumed with violence and anger and malice. They become obsessed with hurting people, it all becomes a sport to them. I am no fighting trainer. I don't want you to end like those...people."

"But I won't," Techno looked at his father with large eyes, "I promise."

"You can never tell, boyo. And in the end, that's the horror of it all. Seeing you fight today...it made me so happy...but I can't forget what I've seen. I promise I'll try and be patient."

Techno nodded, "Then I promise to be careful."

"Thank -"

There were screams from behind them, and in an instant, Phil was to his feet. Tubbo was running from the backdoor, with a disheveled Tommy chasing him close by. Tommy was holding a large, ugly toad, and laughing wickedly as Tubbo came to hide under his father's cape. Techno roared in laughter and he wrestled his brother for the animal. They rolled on the grass and shrieked in joy as Phil knelt to meet Tubbo's eyes. 

"Where did he get such a thing?" He asked softly, rubbing the boy's wet cheeks. 

Tubbo sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Under my bed."

"He was hiding it there?"

Tubbo nodded and grabbed a handful of the cape.

"Well it seems that we have no choice but to hide toads under his bed," he scowled and turned to the wrestling Tommy, "or bees, or wasps, or -"

"No!" Tubbo cried, "He said he was going to put snakes in my pillows if I told anyone."

"Snakes! Oh the horror!" Phil smiled and lifted the crying Tubbo to his arms. "What if they bite you?"

"Y-yeah!"

"Or if they slip into your boots and eat your laces?"

"That's what I told him!"

Phil pretended to be exasperated, smacking his palm to his forehead. "What is there to do? Snakes? Snakes!" Phil walked towards the house, Tubbo cradled in his arms and chocking down sobs, "He won't put snakes in your pillows, Tubbo and I promise that he won't hide another toad."

"B-but he said so..."

"And I'll tell him that the forest goblins will eat his fingers if he does anything," Phil looked around, "Where's your other brother?"

"Inside," Tubbo rubbed his eyes once more and slid from his father's grasp. Phil followed him into the house, leaving the door ajar to keep an eye for the two still tumbling in the grass. Ranboo sat at the dinning table alone. He scribbled on a scrap of parchment, face hard and serious in concentration. Nonsensical shapes and lines kept him occupied, rubbed on the paper by a slab of charcoal. Tubbo ran to him and shook his shoulders desperately. 

"Ranboo!" He cried, "The goblins are going to eat Tommy's fingers!"

"Only if we find another toad," Phil assured the wide eyes that looked back up at him. One was purple and one was red. They seemed to be getting brighter with every passing day. Even as an infant, there was not a trace of human within those eyes - clearing Phil's initial suspicions. Whatever the other half of Ranboo may be, it surely wasn't man. 

Ranboo showed the two the parchment enthusiastically, "Look! I colored it."

"Very nice," Phil beamed and pointed to the mass of scribbles, "What does this mean?"

"A fish."

Tubbo climbed his way to the seat besides his brother. "Fish? What's a fish?" 

"Something that swims in water," Phil explained. "We eat them, Tub."

Ranboo continued with, "It talked to me."

"It...talked to you? What did it say?"

Ranboo seemed to think about it, but he thought about it in the way ordinary toddlers think (in the way they don't think at all). After a minute he gave a toothy smile and shrugged. 

"Don't 'member."

Phil was cautious on his words, "Was it...was it nice to you?" He didn't mean to be weary, honest, but dreams were a questionable thing among the family. It was never the lottery of imagination or zaniness of childhood innocence. It was always the fragments of memories. Memories they weren't supposed to remember in the first place.

"Yes," Ranboo answered.

"Was it pretty?"

"Yes."

"Was it a goblin?" Tubbo's small voice demanded. His body was sprawled across Ranboo, who looked to answer had it not been for the slam of an opening door. Everyone jumped at the arrival of Techno and Tommy, who were covered in dirt and scratches. Techno held the toad in one hand and a single tooth in another.

"Look!" He announced pridefully, "I lose a tooth!"

Tubbo and Ranboo looked distraught. "But you already lost one," Tubbo said. 

"He lost another," Phil described patiently, "He is going to lose all his teeth to make room for new ones."

"Why do you need new ones? Are yours bad?" Ranboo asked. 

Techno held his tooth like a trophy, "No! I'm only growing. Dad! I'm becoming an adult!"

Phil smiled, "And you should be proud of yourself, boyo."

"Adults are stinky and weird," Tommy wrinkled his nose, just in the way his older brother did, "I never want to lose my teeth."

"I don't have teeth! Look!" Ranboo flashed his fangs in a wide smile. They were small for a grown monster's but apparently hilarious for everyone. All children, including Ranboo, exploded into bellows of laughter. Phil slipped from the commotion to fire the stove. The mundane life of horrible soups had since upgraded to tolerable concoctions of lamp and pork. Whenever Tommy felt a peculiar spark of energy, he would bring back a rabbit he caught bare handed. So rabbit stew was too much of a delicacy, as most of the poor creatures had been scared off to the deserts with the arrival of the wild boy. Tubbo approached the kitchen kitchen to peer, although with much difficulty, into the large pot. 

"Oh, soup!"

Techno came over and held the miserable toad to Phil, "Here you go, dad. I'm sure it will be an excellent supper."

The children erupted in laughter once again, this time bending in side stiches and teary eyes. Phil chuckled with them and pulled the toad from Techno's grasp.

"No toad soup tonight, you'll hurt your stomachs."

"Goblin soup!" Tommy announced. He stood on a dining chair, holding one of Techno's wooden swords to the ceiling. 

"You can't eat goblins. They eat you, silly," Techno giggled. 

"And goblin soup is gross," Ranboo added. 

"Goblin soup," Phil cut in, moving steaming bowls of supper to the table, "is not what's for dinner. Now come and eat, and get off the chair Tommy."

As they ate, Phil was satisfied with the lack of sour faces shared around the table. Perhaps the day of labor and wrestling in the grass added to it, but he was positive his cooking was improving. When their bowls were half full, Techno wiped his mouth and commented:

"I can fight a goblin now, so none of you have to worry. I can fight goblins now right, dad?"

Phil have him a warm smile and nodded his head, "Of course you can, boyo."

### Bay leaves and forest strangers

It was always a hassle to move everyone to the rivers to bathe. There was always some sort of confrontation, where a boy whined of the weather or his brother complained of hunger. No one ever seemed pleased to track to the rivers as a whole, so in accommodation, Phil needed something to mask the growing odors of the house. With years of trail and error, he found that bay leaves repelled most smells, and they flavored dishes and tended headaches. 

It would've been well if the bay leaves were a simpler task to get to, but an entire abundance of them grew some miles in the forest. Trees upon trees, all vast in branches of the leaves. The journey was easy to Phil, but four boys who refused to go the short distance to the rivers were none too pleased. 

"You either live in this musk or you take a bath," Phil had said one day. 

"None!" Techno replied, "My feet will hurt."

"Boyo, you were once on the road for months. Don't try to fool me with these excuses."

Stubborn, stubborn children. To make it worse, Phil finally resorted to going alone when the bay leaf supply ran shallow. He blocked every door and window with slabs of wood whenever he headed off, warning his boys to remain in the house.

"Last chance...would anyone like to go?" Phil asked. 

A chorus of "no" followed. Phil put his hands to his hips.

"Fine," he whipped his hair dramatically, "and if I happen find tree sap, I'm eating it all."

He didn't turn to admire their horrified expressions as he swung the bag over his shoulder. The forest in front of him was long and widen, packed with ancient secrets and future answers. The breeze danced around him, bringing a choir of birds and leaves to run through the trees. Green vines crept up trunks and trickles of water slipped through roots. Ants marched down logs and owls slept in hollows. Everywhere he stepped, Phil was surrounded by the tranquility of the forest. It wrapped around him and shielded him from the harshness of the sun, or the thorn of a flower, or the deep of the mud. 

Phil passed fields of flowers, all of every color and shape, and thickets of blooming trees. Ferns sprouted as untamed masses and berries fell from prickled bushes. Bugs swarmed the marshes as wolves prowled the hills. He basked in the familiarity of the area until he arrived to the bay laurel fields. An array of bushes lay presented in front of him, perfect for picking. Phil unpacked his bag and kneeled to the first bush. He was well into his activity, daydreaming of chicken stews and smoked lamp, when a voice echoed behind him. 

"Angel of Death," it said as Phil spun quick enough to lose his balance. He fell to the dirt and fumbled for the knife at his belt.

No! He thought, no no no. I can't have another encounter! I can't have more children!

"I'm not interested," he hissed.

In front of him was a lone shack, one that was not there when he arrived. It was half hidden in unkept brush and the wall paint was horribly chipped. A chimney spat puffs of smoke. The door was closed and the windows were locked. A talking house?

"I think you are interested," the voice came again. It was a woman's, distinctively female. It was not the same unidentifiable rumble of the monster's tongue he had heard so many years before. "At least you will be."

Phil was still on the ground when he growled, "I've had my fair share of monsters. I cannot afford any more."

As he raised to move, the voice declared, "I am no monster, Angel of Death. You've had your fair share and are spared of such encounters until they see fit."

"Wha-"

"I am a witch, Angel. A harmless witch who had been searching for you." 

Phil got to his feet and stuffed the knife back to his bag. His back ached horribly from the fall. "Yeah everybody always seems to be searching for me, so I've seen. Can't you dwell somewhere closer? I am far from home, forest witch."

"I'm afraid your son cannot hear what we are about to discuss."

His body locked in place. "...My son?"

"Yes."

"What about my son? What about my son that makes others see fit to startle me in the middle of -"

"I'm sure the first monster mentioned of a prophecy, Angel of Death," the witch's voice interrupted. "What did it tell you?"

"That, uh, encounter was years ago..."

"And I am demanding that you recall it."

Phil thought for a minute before replying, "The monster told me of a prophecy I could not run from... There was an evil entity looking for my son, and I was bound to protect him. That is all..."

The voice hummed. "And so you learned nothing but the truth, I see."

"Truth it may be, but I hardly get a nights rest because of it... Forest witch...what prophecy did the monster speak of?"

The witch, still hidden within her hut, did not speak for a breath. "There is an evil entity, one whose existence plagues this land - and all others - with torture and malice. The prophecy was implemented the day this deity found the skies, and it reawaken the day your son was born."

"My son..." Phil winced at the pain down his spine, "...what does he have to do with any of this?"

"He is bound as the protector of our worlds. The prophecy has called for him to save us from the deity. He was chosen the day of his first moon, and given to you on his third."

"...I still don't understand...he is only a boy..."

"Three nights from his eighteenth birthday, the boy must yield his weapon and call for the god to challenge. Shall he win, he will be the strongest being in the universe."

"....And shall he lose...?"

"Then we are doomed to rot for eternity," the witch answered.

"Why tell me this if you're going to be so vague...?"

"Because, Angel of Death, little may know. Your son may never know of the responsibility he was born with, and in an incident he hears, he will fail."

Phil clutched at his stomach as the voice rested silent. 

"Poor elder," she mused, "your wings have stayed hidden for so long. Why not take them from their binds and care for yourself?"

Phil winced violently and said lowly, "They are not what they once were. I am human now, and humans don't react easily to such...appearances."

"But you are in pain, Angel of Death."

"I can...handle it. I've been through worse," he assured with a growing voice, "These gods made this prophecy, yes? Why couldn't they defeat the evil deity themselves?"

"The evil one killed all gods, brothers and sisters, friend and foe. With the last of their power, they called for the prophecy to choose a master, and it chose your son."

"I was not notified of such...circumstances."

There was a tinge of impatience in the witch's voice as she said, "You said you are human now, yes?"

"What am I to do...with this all? How am I to help my son?"

"Everything that you've been doing. You will encounter helpers, Angel of Death, so do not hesitate to trust those who are worth your trust. You will also encounter foes. Avoid them as they are as dangerous as the god in the sky. Raise your son not in the eyes of the prophecy but in the eyes of a father. Let this burden not determine the way he is treated. 

"...I understand," Phil chocked out, "but I don't know who to trust."

"In times of hesitation, trust only yourself. Listen to your own voice in your own head. Shall it tell you that everything is safe, then you listen. Your mind will be the most essential weapon - keep it out of trouble, and it will serve you to lengths beyond any blade."

"I see...forest witch..."

"Yes?" 

"Will you be here to guide us?" Phil asked. 

The witch answered, "For as long as you may need me. Send letters by raven, and I may respond to them. I can only tell you what I am permitted to say. Everything else is your own to learn."

"What do I address you as...I don't know your honorifics."

There was silence from the shack. Then, "You'll learn in time. Call me forest witch if you please."

Phil nodded and rubbed his back. The bag around his shoulders was filled enough with leaves, and he supposed another visit in weeks time wouldn't hurt. He swayed from side to side as he fought for balance. Finally, his legs cooperated and he turned his heel to leave. The sun was sinking and the low hissing of monsters could be heard in the distance. 

"Forest witch," he called behind him, "thank you."

"It is a pleasure, Angel of Death."

"Oh, and -" Phil turned around to walk backwards, "I need to know...will my family ever be safe?"

There was no response from the witch. When it did finally come, it was hardly any more than a whisper picked from the subtle breeze. But Phil heard it as if a hundred witches and monsters screamed it in his ear, as his body tensed even more and his back thumped. 

"No."

### Hidden and Bound

Among the children huddled in the house, Phil decided against sharing of the witch in the woods. They would want to know everything, as children commonly did. What was he to tell them? That they talked over tea? Discussed the morning weather? It was best to convince them that he slipped in the water upon returning, and he was relieved when the boys believed him.

After supper, Phil sat at the edge of his bed, exhausted from the drag of the day. The ache on his back did not cease, even while faced against the open window and the cool of the night. The pain made his skin shiver and eyes red, but his stubbornness refused to free him. He was ready for the struggle of laying comfortably in bed when tiny rasps on the door sang. 

"Yes?" he called. 

The door was opened, showing Tubbo's small face against the shadows of the night. Phil rose, very carefully, to greet him. 

"Tubbo," he whispered, "are you alright?"

The boy nodded, "Yes. Are you okay?"

"I-"

"Here," he said suddenly, holding a branch of bay leaves for Phil, "I don't like the hurt."

"Right." Phil beamed and kneeled to give Tubbo an embrace. "Thank you, young one. Now off to bed, please."

Phil stood in the doorway until the soft pat of Tubbo's running grew distant down the hallway. He closed his own door and twirled the branch in his fingers. So many thoughts swam through his head. So many thoughts that did not haunt him, or ridicule him, or even hurt him. They coddled him, fed him warmth and offered him light. They dived through the crystal waters of his mind, swimming and playing in the once murky pool. Phil put the bay leaf in a small jar and undid the scarf around his neck. Layer by layer he peeled his clothes off, letting them drop to his feet and litter his floor. He let the cold hit his skin until all that was left were the wraps around his torso. 

They were painful. So incredible painful that he wondered how he managed to last that long. 

The pain had always been there, but so had his pride. He told himself that he would live and get used to the aches and burns. But many years of carrying children and soup pots later, his body was beginning to break under him. And so, for the first time in many many moons, he ripped through the wraps. He tore through them, using fingers as gentle as a mother, giving not a care to where the scraps fell. When his floor was a mess and his back roared to life, Phil finally dared to look at himself. 

"Lords and legends..." he cursed to himself, holding his broken mirror in front of him, "what have I been doing to myself?"

His wings looks as frail and thin as a butterfly's but not nearly as beautiful. They were shed from the fierce companions once as powerful as a raptor's, they once were; ones that could soar for hours and cut through flesh. Now they were grey and slouched against his back, riddled with holes and burns. Phil took a second to swallow whatever emotion was threatening to press through. He could not cry over something he did. Especially something so silly.

"I've lived with consequences before," he whispered before going to his bag for something to soothe his pain to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 has the wackiest spell checks istg. I want to spell miserable not Misérables.  
> Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Dadza is a gentle soul and needs to be protected. See you all for the next chapter! <3


	4. Entry Four: water and fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another two years and life doesn't get any less interesting. Just when the family thought the weird forest encounters would cease, new strangers begin to emerge - prompting the question of who is to trust? Who is to fear? And in the case of all being lost, who do you run to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should Phil's last name be Minecraft lol. Longer chapter and 85% of it is dialogue. Sorry about that but the show must go on! Enjoy <3

### Rivers and Grass

Now in normal circumstances, Phil was reasonable enough to not allow his children to track into the woods alone. Under normal circumstances. But Techno was fussy over his shrinking boots and growing feet, and Tommy was crying over the cuts and bruises along his knees. Phil had told him, multiple times, not to jump on the roofs of the empty village huts, but Tommy was a stubborn boy. He fell from a roof and scrapped his legs, and he stumbled home to give the entire family a hard time. 

"Fetch a pail of water, please," he told Ranboo and Tubbo, "and make it quick. If anything tries to talk to you -"

"Don't answer," the two boys chimed back.

"Yes. Very good. Now go off before we all combust." In the background, Tommy screamed louder. 

And so Tubbo and Ranboo grabbed the iron bucket, grabbed their cloaks, tied their boots, and skipped down to the riverbed. It overflowed in the kisses of early summer; all the fish and water bugs sang to the return of fresh water. It had been frozen over for so long, and it was always a struggle from keeping the children off the ice. But now the sun danced and wished away the snow and ice. Tangles of flowers and brush lined the riverbed, immediately distracting the young Tubbo from his initial task. He crouched to the patches of dandelions in gentle admiration. 

"Ranboo!" He called for his brother, who was still taking the bucket closer to the rushing water. "Come look at flowers!"

"We have to be fast," Ranboo knelt besides the sprinting tide, "so we can get dried fruit." Ah, yes. A delectable treat. They took all winter to dry - stored in a deep compartment too distant even for Techno to snoop around. Phil had spent many moons deciding on the best hiding place, many batches of cut fruit stolen from the kids and hidden in pillowcases and sock cabinets.

Tubbo giggled and fell to the grass. "Flowers," he whispered in fascination.

Ranboo kept to the river. How intimidating the waters were, especially in the absence of his father. The river was strong, you see. Stronger than any six year old boy - mutant? Monster? What was the correct term here? - could ever be. The waves rolled and rolled, taking the dirt and fish along the current. Flashes of white and blue tumbled against one another, and the colors painted pictures of summer and spring, bright and vibrant after the winter freeze. Ranboo collected the running water and stumbled to his feet. His brother behind him had become one of the forest, now deeply engaged in the embrace of the beautiful day. He, against the warmth and tranquility of the forest, was in his own haven. Ranboo would've disrupted that haven had it not been for the splash of water behind him. Water sprayed on the back of his neck and he turned to scold whatever fish had done such a thing. 

But this thing wasn't a fish. It wasn't anything like Ranboo had ever seen. It looked just as much fish as it did woman - but in the way that it didn't look entirely fish and it didn't look entirely woman. It was a salmon pink, darker in blush and lips, and had gills on her - her? - cheeks. Her hair was long and flowy, and it fell behind her to sprawl about her body. She had bits of scales here and there, sprinkled across her skin, and they glistened a deep crimson red against the flashing water. In another world, Ranboo would be enchanted by the woman in the river, but she had a mischievous smile across her face. She looked like someone to distrust, someone to step away from, someone to fear. She giggled bubbles as she watched Ranboo cautiously back from the riverbed. 

"Don't run, little boy. I promise I'm safe." Her voice was as sweet as sap. It had been years and years since Ranboo last heard a woman's voice. A soft, even voice, so distant it was likely a dream. It was the muse of a mother, but the lady in the lake had the coos of a stranger. A stranger that flashed her sharp teeth and wide eyes as if she'd known Ranboo everyday he was alive. 

"Dad said not to talk to strangers," Ranboo mumbled, holding the pail - which was heavy enough - closer to his body. "Dad said to stay away from anything talking to me."

The water thing chuckled, "And your father is right. The trees taunt and the flowers bite. Oh, and watch out for the rose bushes. All they do is scream and chant! But I'm not here to hurt you."

"Are you a monster?"

"Monster is a term of many meanings, little boy. I am just as much of a monster as you are," the lady continued to smile. It was getting gentler now, and it softened her face enough to stop Ranboo from backing away. 

"Are you a fish?"

"I am Nihachu the water nymph. I run these waters, little boy, and I watch over every tide and wave."

"But my dad said that water nymphs don't exist anymore," Ranboo said, setting the pail down to his feet. 

"And he is right," the magical being bowed her head. Strands of long hair fell to her face. "My people, just as yours, have suffered. My brothers and sisters may not be with me anymore, but I still swim with pride and dignity."

"I have brothers! There! He is there and I think he would like you -"

"I don't make myself present to the ordinary, young one," Nihachu said calmly. "I only appear to those bound to my assistance, and even if your brother was in need of my help, he wouldn't be able to understand us."

"Oh! Are you here to help me with my water pail?" Ranboo excitedly lifted the bucket back to his chest. A good amount of water fell from the pail, making his yelp and drop more. 

Nihachu laughed, "I'm afraid my task is not so simple. That is why I speak in such a tongue, that it why I dwell in such a place..."

Ranboo looked confused now. Why was this water nymph here if she wasn't brought to help with the pail? Perhaps she was here to splash water on Tubbo to break him out of his marveled trance. Yes, that must be it. she must've known that if Ranboo attempted to retrieve his brother back to the house, he would become just as infatuated with the flowers. Then they would never return home!

"What do you mean, water nymph?"

Nihachu gave a sad smile and said, "My boy, there is only so much I may tell you. But of what you should know, remember that this world is a terrible place."

"I know. My dad tells us that all the time."

"He sounds like a smart man," the lady in the lake giggled, "but there are things he hasn't told you, boy."

"Why?"

"Because you must learn of them yourself," she explained. "As you grow and age, you'll understand why you are important." 

"Why can't I learn now?"

"Because there are beings- bad beings- who want important things. They'll hurt you to get to it, so you must first learn to defend yourself..."

"Ah! Like fight?" Ranboo clasped his hands over his mouth. "Am I going to learn to fight like my brother? Am I going to be taught how to fight?" The boy buzzed in anxious excitement and Nihachu laughed once more.

"TechnoBlade," she started, "is of a different story. He has his own pages to write. All your brothers do."

"Do you visit them to? Did you talk to Techno? What did he say? Did he talk about his old boots? He doesn't like his old boots very much."

"I did not speak to TechnoBlade," the nymph shook her head, "I am only meant to talk to you and only you for now. You tell anyone of this and I'll dry the rivers for the summer."

Ranboo nodded his head rapidly. The pail of water was now entirely empty. Tubbo, behind him, was laughing about some bugs swarming his face. 

"Good. Please understand that this is all very dangerous..."

"Huh?"

"...but I've sent to deliver something important, young one. Something so important," Nihachu turned to drag something from the water, "that it will determine the life of many many things.

The surface was to Nihachu's waist as she held something glowing in her palms. Something that Ranboo had only seen in dreams and distances. Something so sacred his father kept his hidden, away from the younger children and out of reach. Some that he had seen Techno use, and swing, and thrust, and hurt. 

It was a sword.

It glowed in purple and blue, presented majestically to Ranboo in Nihachu's grasp. Vines of soaked grass strung from the handle and the blade was green in moss and mold. The empty pail fell from Ranboo's arms and rolled to the riverbed.

"It's an ancient weapon," the lady spoke carefully, "one powerful enough to kill gods. The last of its use was for a foreign hero who was told to throw it into the waters for another to possess it."

"I-"

"You may not use it in vain. The sword will only be of any help in the most dire of situations, one with blood and bone drawn. It may also not be taken from you. No one, not your father or your shadow, shall know of such a weapon."

"H-how?" Ranboo asked weakly. His surroundings, once so vast and open in the new summer glory, now seemed tight and cold. The trees did not dance and the grass did not weave. The water was silent, as was the shrieks of laughter from his brother behind him, and the chirping of birds above him. The world had suddenly gone completely still. 

"You hide it," Nihachu answered. "The sword belongs to you now, it has chosen you. You were meant to wield it's power from the day you were born. You will know what's best for it now."

"And if I d-don't?"

The nymph looked to Ranboo sadly, the brightness in her eyes now dull. "That's what you'll have to learn, little one. This sword holds more power than both the waters and the skies. It is too important for me, too fragile and ancient. You are drawn to protect it, and in turn, it is drawn to protect you."

She lifted her arms higher, prompting Ranboo closer. He had never held a sword in his hands, and he once wondered if he ever would. It was light in his hands. Easy. Welcoming. He held it as if it was the only thing he was supposed to do, as if he was always meant to possess such an artifact. As if it were meant to possess him.

"Good," Nihachu whispered, "very good."

"What do I do with it?"

"Hide it. Keep it hidden and safe. There will be times when you feel the need to use it. Don't. Only when absolutely necessary, boy."

"When will I know?"

"You'll know," the nymph said as she sunk lower into the gushing river, "I promise."

The sounds of the area were beginning to return. The water roared and the wind howled. His brother was still on the grass. No search parties had gone after them, which was a good thing. Their father was likely busy with the two others and whatever fuss they offered him. Nihachu was lowering further to the waves. 

"I'll be near whenever you need me," she said, "but you'll have others. There will be good people in your life, young one. There will be people who will be there to help. Be careful with them..."

"Water nymph?"

"Call me Niki, young one..."

"Okay okay. Niki...my head hurts."

"Then go home. Your father will help you."

"But Nihachu -"

"Niki," she corrected patiently.

"Niki - sorry," Ranboo kept his grip on the sword, "- I can't hide a sword..."

"No?"

"No."

She was close to being completely submerged in the water when her voice, barely a breath, danced about Ranboo's ears, "Then have it hide you." And she was gone, swallowed by the push of the waves, the press of the surf. There was not a trace left, not even a hair.

The rivers continued to run and the forest continued to thrive. The sword in front of the boy, covered in grass and mold, glowed in its unfathomable aura. Whether an apparition or a travesty or some other concerning hallucination, Ranboo had heard the nymph's words. He tucked the weapon into his belt, the way he had seen his father and Techno do. To add to his bewilderment and his pounding head, the sword fit as if it belonged there, completely hidden under his cloak. It took everything within him to stay calm as he heard footsteps approach. Was it another monster? Was it dangerous this time? Was it looking for the sword? Was he already in trouble?

It was only his brother.

"Did you get the water yet?" Tubbo asked, face painted in mud and flowers. 

"Ah, no. Not yet."

"I'll help you," he said happily, waddling down to the riverbed where the empty bucket rested. Ranboo couldn't find it in himself to function properly. There were many things going through his head - far too many for such a young boy. Perhaps he would be the next one to have a fuss, following Techno and Tommy. 

"Come along," he heard Tubbo say then repeat, "hurry up now. We go home now."

"Y-yes. Yes, let's," Ranboo croaked. Some gratious deity let his legs move. Maybe it was the work of the water nymph - Niki, right? - but his body shook and his hands trembled. He felt every nerve in his head and ever beat in his heart. If the calm of the forest not comforted him, Ranboo would've been completely overwhelmed.

They ran to the direction of their home, pail of water shared between two of them. The water splashed here and there, jumping at their shoes and spraying their faces. The crisp air was cool against Ranboo's face. It blew his hair, of black and white, from his forehead. It made his eyes flutter and his cloak flap behind him. Through the peaks of his belt, Ranboo could make out the glowing handle still in place. Hidden from the forest, from the waters, from his brother, and soon from his father, the sword stirred very little as Ranboo and Tubbo ran back excitedly to the home.

### Hazelnuts and Lanterns

Techno's shoes were getting smaller, and the more he grew the more he realized this. Such absurdity. How dare he outgrow his boots; the very boots he held for so long. 

"It happens to the best of us," his father had said.

"And how about the worst of us?"

"They don't have the fortune of experiencing such things," Phil knelt in front of the crying Tommy, tending to his small wounds. "To the worst of us, they die young."

"Well," Techno snapped and crossed his arms, "maybe I would like to -"

"Don't finish that sentence, boyo. You never know which god may grant it."

His arms still crossed, Techno bit his lips in a pout. He was ten years now. He was practically a grown man! Adults shouldn't have to go through such silly impediments should they? Techno didn't see much value in growing feet and shrinking shoes. Why did he need bigger feet anyways? He could live through one pair of boots and live a meaningful life. Why did he have to endure such inconveniences?

Phil rose to his feet and dusted his knees. He frowned to the open windows and wiped his hands on the cut fabric slung over his shoulder. His cap was perched lazily over his head, but his cape was neatly folded on the kitchen counter. 

"Now where are they?" He asked himself. 

"Maybe they fell in the rivers," Techno suggested. 

"O-or the g-goblins got t-to them," Tommy sniffled between his sobs. 

"Don't have much faith in your brothers do we? I'm sure they got distracted by patches of grass and bees. Nothing to worry much about."

The boys had been sent out some time ago. It wasn't a concerning amount of time, but surely more than enough to fetch a bucket of water. Techno tried to ignore the wake of a frantic pace beckoning from his father. His father who was always anxious, always cautious, always careful.

"In time I'll get better," he had told Techno once, "but as you're all still young, I need to be wary."

"But-"

"That doesn't mean I'll keep you from doing things. You're not, and believe me on this, staying cooped in the house all day. There are things to be done, but I can't help but feel a little stingy about leaving you guys alone anywhere."

Techno watched his father fiddle with the fabric. He wasn't breaking out into a pace yet, which was an improvement. Perhaps he was getting better. Perhaps one day he would allow for all the children to run adventures on their own.

For a minute or two, he was so invested in his daydreams that he didn't even hear Ranboo and Tubbo returning. He only noticed Tommy's sobs settling and water running. Tubbo looked like a mess, which was a given because he was always a mess after going outside. There was always something that interested him outside, something that made him stick his face in the dirt. But Ranboo looked like a mess of his own. He was timid, so incredibly timid one would think he was seeing his family for the first time. For a second he stood in the kitchen with no intentions of breaking his petrified posture. Did he see something?

Phil noticed as quickly as Techno had. After he cleaned Tommy's cuts and washed his tear streaked cheeks, he grabbed Ranboo and set him on a dining chair. 

"Alright, sport?"

Ranboo kept his head tucked when he answered. "Yes," he said quietly. 

"You sure? You look a little...." A little what? Pale? Ranboo's skin didn't turn pale. "...lost."

"Just cold. I think." Good answer. Anything else would have Phil imply that Ranboo was ill, and he would spiral into a frenzy. 

"Right," Phil clapped his shoulders and went to the hallway, "let me grab some blankets. This winter was hard, yeah?"

As Phil dug through the closets, Techno looked over at Ranboo, who looked right back at him. Techno found a red eye and a purple eye blinking back at him. They looked as lost as ever, but nothing in particular stood out. His eyes were always hard to read, and Techno was never good with reading eyes in the first place. Either monster or man, they all glimmered the same. Sadness or desperation. Helplessness or glee. To him it all read the same way. 

Phil returned with the stack of blankets. It would be a few days until they were stored for the winter. He attacked Ranboo in one, squeezing out the boy's pleads of laughter. After Tubbo and Tommy joined the squabble, Phil untangled himself to start dinner. He worked hastily, as he always did, and Techno wondered how he was never dizzy from it all. 

"Techno," he called, "we're out of hazelnuts."

"Right," Techno replied, already reaching for his cloak. 

"Don't do anything rash," Phil warned. "I already sent enough children to the woods."

Boots. Small boots. Techno didn't know how much longer he could bare to wear them. "I won't be."

"And come back immediately. I only need a handful."

"Okay." Gods he was hungry. He imagined he would run down to the hazelnut trees, but he didn't know if he had any energy left to do so.

Phil shot him a stern eye. That one he could read easily. Don't do anything stupid, it meant, or there will be consequences. Yes, Techno knew that look very well. 

"Come back with a toad, or a bear, or a fox, or a wolf -"

"-or a goblin!" Tommy chimed.

Phil nodded, "-or a goblin, then I'll -"

"- crack your head like a walnut!" Tommy announced again.

Phil shot him a murderous glare. "Where did you learn that?"

Tommy smiled - much of his teeth were gone - and pointed to Techno. "Techno!"

Techno slipped from the house before his father could chew him out. He wrapped his cloak over himself and ran for the hazelnut trees. There weren't many and the nearest ones were a generous number of strides away. But Techno decided to run to them that day, after much contemplation, even if he knew he was going to regret it later. His shoes, gods his shoes, were making his toes sting and curl. The soles were worn out enough to make him feel every pebble on the floor, so it made the trip a little less easy. Nonetheless, he made it to the hazelnut trees. 

But he had been beaten. 

There were voices. Many voices. Was it a dream? He hadn't heard other human voices in years...

There were hearty booms of laughter, eruptions of bliss, bombs of joy. The ground rumbled in the activity, unfamiliar to the number of people present. Techno was just as startled. He crouched behind a bush, fiddling furiously with the hem of his cloak. What was he to do? There were strangers all around the forest! What was he to tell his father?

"I must go back," he whispered to himself and turned his heel. 

A light, a harsh, a harsh light, nearly blinded him. Someone shoved a lantern in his face and knocked him back to the floor. He cursed in pain as three figures, all covered in the dying day's shadows, crowded around him. It was difficult to make out their faces, but he could not miss the glimmer of awe in their eyes. Or maybe it wasn't awe. Reading eyes was such a task...

"Lords and legends!" One of the figures cried, "An orphan! An orphan boy!"

"Poor boy," another figure cooed, "he looks terrified! Let's keep him."

The first figure gasped, "Wait - he's wearing wool. Fresh wool. Where did you learn to weave wool, boy?" 

Techno could only gawk at the strangers in the darkness. "I-" he started. 

"Cal. Bring this kid to his feet."

The third figure grabbed Techno's armpits, and before the boy could protest, hoisted him to his feet. Techno blinked once, twice, three times. The light shoved in his face made his vision dance and swirl. The one holding the lantern was a man covered in a bright mask. He was human, that much Techno knew. They all were.

"Are you hungry, boy?" The lantern man asked. 

"We got lamb!" A woman's voice, the second figure, chimed. In the dimmed light, Techno made out a woman in a black mask. She had long, long hair tied lazily to the bridge of her neck. Her eyes were kind and gentle, with traces of the lantern fire besides her spinning in her pupils. She, with her face partly covered, looked approachable enough. There was no need of any weapons.

"Gods, kid, did you see a ghost or something?"

Techno gulped, "I - I don't know."

The man rose an eyebrow. "Where you from?"

"Here...?"

"Really? We haven't seen you around," the woman said. "Granted, we've only been here for a wink or two -"

"You got a family?"

Techno nodded. The three strangers in front of him exchanged looks. He couldn't make out what they were. Anticipation? Worry? Anger?

"More people, eh?" The woman touched her chin with her finger. "Didn't know there still were strays in the woods. You got a function, kid?"

"A what?"

"A function," the man spoke, "we're part of a function. Isn't much of us, but we're all travelers."

The woman added, "Never settling in one place for too long. Always on the move. You like that, kid?"

"N-no."

The man looked suspicious. "Who are you, boy? Where do you come from?"

"The forest, sir. We've lived here for years," Techno stammered.

"You got a dad? Mom? Who's your family?"

Was this a wise thing to do? Don't make be rash, his father had told him. Was he being rash? Were these people going to eat him if he didn't comply? Were these the goblins all along? They didn't look a bit how Techno imagined them.

"My dad," he finally blurted, "my dad is Philza and -"

"Philza!" The woman gasped, her eyes becoming wide in wonder. "You father is the Philza?" She said that like his father was a lost treasure.

"Yes? I-I think so?"

"We knew him, kid," the man said. "Thought he was dead like all the others."

"Gee. I didn't know he had a kid! Cal, did you know?"

The third figure, now seen in the light, nodded solemnly. He was the oddest of them all. He did not speak, he hardly blinked, and he wore a reindeer onesie. Can you believe that? He had a blue mask covering the top half of his face. What was with these guys and masks?

"What?" The woman laughed, "Guess I've been away for awhile. How's your old man, kid. He may not remember me."

Techno had a hard time keeping up with their words. He wasn't accustomed to talking to other people. "He's fine, I think. But he's -"

"Cal, go get some drinks," she said to the silent one besides her.

"He's -"

The woman wasn't listening. "What do you mean 'wait'? Go get the kid some drinks, dammit!"

"I-"

"No he can't drink alcohol! Look at the poor lad, you stag."

"He's waiting for me," Techno said in a small voice. He never liked to be small, but he really didn't like strangers - a bad habit he learned from his father. 

"Hazelnuts I'm assuming?" The man kept his eyebrow arched and high. 

"Y-yes."

"Yeah we're eating those. Tell you what, get your father to meet us out here and we'll have dinner together. We have a lot to catch up on, right?"

"He doesn't -"

The woman clapped her hands and shook 'Cal' violently. "Oh! A party. We haven't had one in so long!"

"But he -"

"I insist," the man said lowly. "We'll be here all night. If he wishes to join us, then I promise that we'll be waiting."

### Hidden and Silent

Phil and his boys dressed in a haste. Things fell to the ground, brother argued with brother, chaos ensued and chaos ran. 

Just some time before, Techno had returned to the house in quite the commotion. He had no hazelnuts, but he did have a frantic look on his face. He explained that he met with strangers in the woods, ones who claimed to know Phil. And now Phil was doing everything in his power to remain calm. Tommy and Ranboo were running around his legs, screaming about some nonsensical conflict. Tubbo was wrapped in every coat around the house and Techno was busy chasing him. Phil stood in the middle of it all, looking to his reflection against the blade of a knife.

It had been some time since his wings were concealed in their wraps. It had been some time since he felt compelled to do so again. But these strangers in the woods, whether real or an illusion from Techno's lack of supper, were in no position to see Phil so vulnerable. If they spoke of the truth to his son, and if they really did know Phil before, then they would remember what his wings once were. People always reacted differently to the condition succumbed to them. His wings, once so beautiful and powerful, were a dread to see. But keeping them exposed, cutting holes through his shirts so they can breathe, even stretching them out, gave Phil some sort of closure. He didn't use them - he couldn't - but at least he could tolerate them.

Rewrapping them was a difficult task. It had been years, so long that Phil nearly forgot how. His wings seemed to also forget. They wheezed and twitched in pain. Sure it wasn't comfortable or convenient, but it was safe. 

Techno stopped in his feat of madness (he managed to steal his coat from Tubbo) to observe his father wincing and groaning in pain. Techno, like the rest of his brothers, never understood why Phil hid his wings in the first place. They had never seen their peaks of power, so they were only familiar with the frail, riddled mass that served little purpose but add extra weight. 

"Why are you hiding them?" He asked, tilting his head like a confused puppy. 

"To keep safe."

"I thought you threw out the wraps."

Phil cringed. He forgot he told Techno that. Gods, Techno wasn't supposed to remember that much! It was already a hard day. 

"I, uh, found them again. Don't worry about it, boyo."

Techno frowned and looked at his own reflection in the sword. He was getting taller, and his hair was becoming a little more unmanageable with each passing day.

"They seemed alright, you know," he said, ruffling his pink locks (why did he have pink hair?), "they seemed happy to meet you again. Even if they were a little scary."

"Yeah?"

Techno's frown stayed still. "Yeah. You don't need to hide from them, you know."

Phil stopped his wrapping. The triplets around him stopped as well.

"Techno..."

"Or," Techno looked away, suddenly embarrassed, "you could hide - er, hide your wings - or something. Whatever you want to do. I just, uh...don't...want...you...to get hurt again."

Phil smiled, "I appreciate your sympathy, boyo. But sometimes it's fine to hide from people. At least hide some things."

Techno nodded and Phil climbed in his shirt and coat. Somewhere in the kitchen, tired from his brother's fiddling, Ranboo sat alone. No he hasn't pale, but the lost look in his eyes didn't seem to cease from earlier. He looked lost in thought, not troubled, just lost. Phil approached him carefully. 

"'Boo?"

The boy's head snapped up. His eyes were wide. They seemed to speak of things Phil couldn't understand. What was Ranboo thinking? How can he help?

"You alright there?"

"...Yes."

"You sure?" Phil sat besides him and bumped their shoulders together. "We don't have to go if you don't want to."

"We can go. I just..." Ranboo scanned the room. His brothers were preparing for the night's cold. Sweaters, cloaks, and hats. Socks, boots, and mittens. 

"Hm?"

"I just - I just am a little different..."

Phil's heart dropped and shattered. Oh poor, poor boy. He pulled Ranboo into a hug. Poor, poor Ranboo. He had never concerned himself over being different before. And now, much like his father, he skimmed every possibility to hide, to run, to fear. He did not look like Phil, no, or Techno or Tubbo or Tommy - but he was just as much as a brother. And a son. And a joy. Phil tugged his closer.  
"So am I," he spoke gently, "I've always been. I know it isn't easy, Ranboo, but there is nothing wrong with it."

Ranboo kept his gaze to his feet. Techno silently came forward and gave his brother his pair of boots. Wordlessly, Techno went back to wrapping his cloak around his shoulders.

Phil's voice was just a whisper now. "Don't ever think that what you are - what we are - is a bad thing, okay? You, Ranboo, are so so so strong, and don't you ever think you need to hide that from anyone." The words stung on his lips. If only he could listen to himself. There he was, comforting his son who wasn't entirely human but wasn't entirely anything else either, while he, himself, sat with wings under their painful bindings. 

You are not a bad father, he told himself. You are not a bad father. No no no. You're helping him. You're protecting him. 

"Promise?"

"Promise."

They linked pinkies. Before Phil made a move to leave, Ranboo clutched at the sleeve of his shirt.

"'Boo...?"

"What if," Ranboo started quietly, "what if they try to hurt me?"

Once more, Phil's heart broke. 

"Then we'll be besides you to kick their butts."

### Fires and Friends

The group, unit, party - whatever they had called themselves - sat around a bonfire when Phil and his family arrived. They arrived like prey to a watering hole, wary of anything that moved. Phil kept his children behind him, a rule he ordered the moment they left the house, and a rule that stayed as three people jumped from the ground. 

Techno recognized them immediately. They all still wore masks, even if they were chewing. Gods, he was hungry too.

It took a minute for Phil to take in the strangers in front of him. They were from the SMP, that he remembered, but the memories were hazy. Very hazy...

"Phil!" The first figure, the man covered in the bright bandana called, "You don't look a day over three centuries!"

"So good to see you again, Philza! We had no idea you were out here," the second figure, the woman in the black mask, came to shake Phil's hand enthusiastically.

For a minute, Techno thought that his father would just stand there, probably move to get his kids away, run back to the house, bring out the swords. (Gods, he was starving. What was he even thinking?) But Phil looked at one stranger to another before settling on the third one, the man in the onesie. Techno saw his father's face soften. 

"Callahan," he smiled, not a wide smile but a warm one nonetheless, "haven't seen you in so long, my friend."

The first man clapped Callahan's shoulder and said, "He's as well as always."

"Ponk," Phil nodded his head, "seems you haven't aged a day as well. How are you?"

The man named Ponk threw back his head and laughed. "Fine, fine. I am no angel and I am no god. Years have been rough on me, Phil."

"And Alyssa, how are you, my old friend?"

The woman named Alyssa beamed, "Better. Your son there's quite the trooper. Didn't think he would actually bring the whole lot over."

"More kids!" Ponk gasped and crouched to meet the eyes of Tommy. "And who might you be, child?"

"Tommy," the boy answered proudly, "and I have no teeth!"

"You have teeth-" Phil tried, but Tubbo interrupted. 

"I'm Tubbo! I have more teeth."

"Very nice to meet you two," Ponk shook their tiny hands, laughing as the twins struggled to understand what he was doing. 

Techno eventually introduced himself, and soon all who was left was Ranboo, who was almost completely covered by Phil's cloak. He hid his face and shook his head whenever someone neared. It was soon left to Callahan, who showed him the antlers on his onesies, to persuade him away from his father's security. 

There was a moment of silence, so quick that Phil hardly caught it. It wavered and passed by Ponk and Alyssa, who greeted themselves to Ranboo as they did to his brothers. Yes they saw his eyes, and his face, and his strange abnormalities. Yes they saw that he was not human, but they were wise enough to not comment. 

Instead, the guests were invited to the bonfire, where a tiny communitiy of people sat and ate. They all looked cheerful, something that was unfathomable to Techno. He didn't know such large groups existed. He didn't know they were allowed to exist in such harmony. 

"Plague hit us pretty bad," Ponk said as he distributed bowls of soup to the family, "you know that. Alyssa, Cal, and I ran and eventually found everyone else. It took a little while, but we became a family."

Techno stared, bowl in hand, at the bonfire. He had never seen flames so big. It was mesmerizing. 

"We've lost a few here and there, which was a given. But we try our best to move around, just so nothing comes up behind us."

The soup wasn't good. It was too tasteless; it needed more salt. Techno had worse bowls, and now being an apparent expert of bad soups, knew exactly what he needed to fix it. He would've acted had his aching stomach not pleaded him to stop stalling. 

"And so now you travel about?" Phil asked between chews and swallows, "How is everything else out there?"

Ponk shrugged. "Same as here: deserted. Completely deserted. Shouldn't stay here long, as we've said, but we're heading to," his face lit up and he spilled some of his supper, "- wait! We're going to the SMP after this. We're going to make a stop there for a couple nights. You should come along!"

Alyssa, who had been listening, squealed, "Yes! Oh Phil that would be so fun!"

"Fun? What's fun about it? I left that hell for a reason, Ponk."

Ponk bumped his shoulder, "Oh you old man, we all need some closure at some point in our lives. We won't be staying long, only picking up some scraps left behind and stuff. You and your family can find a place to stay and -"

"That place only invites trouble," Phil brought the bowl to his lips, "and we are safe here."

Ponk scoffed, "Safe here, you say. Hardly safe anywhere anymore..."

"I'm not bringing my kids there."

"You can't keep them hidden here anymore, Philza. You know that." There was something in Ponk's eyes that was hard to read, "Maybe you'll find something worth while..."

"Worth while, huh? Like what? My son?"

Heads snapped to Phil. Techno stopped eating. He could feel the twins press closer to him. Ranboo stayed still. 

"Phil...you know that's not what I -"

"- I know that's not what you meant, Ponk, but I...it still hurts. It still hurts a lot actually," Phil bowed his head and murmured, "I don't want my boys to go through the things I went through."

Callahan put a hand to Phil's shoulder and Alyssa squeezed one of his palms. They all shared a veil of sympathy, and it wrapped around them, hugged them close, kept them warm. It was of hurt and it was of comfort. For the next coming seconds, neither of them spoke. Unspeakable pain, kept hidden from all of them, passed silently from one to another. Given more time, there would've been tears, and outbreaks, and breakdowns. But their wordless vulnerability was masked quickly. Techno's younger brothers resumed their eating and the flames of the bonfire seemed to grow brighter. 

"I'm sorry," Ponk whispered, "I'm sorry for bringing it up. You don't need to go with us, you don't need to do anything you don't want to."

Phil thought for a second. "No, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought anything sour up."

"Sweet. Sour. Whatever, I'm just happy to see you alive," Ponk smiled and collected the empty bowls. 

The rest of the travelers were beginning to pack themselves together for sleep. They spread on the ground, huddled in blankets and rugs, and chased the warmth of the fire. Alyssa yawned and leaned against Callahan, and Ranboo and Tubbo were falling asleep on one another. Techno, on the other hand, never felt more awake. In the span of an evening meal, he watched his father relax with old friends. He watched the way they all talked to one another, looked at one another, helped one another. They shared an aura of hope, something uncommon in those days. He craved more of it, more for his father, more for his family. Eyes were easier to read with hope, and he liked it that way.

Phil was as deep in thought as Techno was. Lucky for him, he resurfaced quickly and stood up abruptly, disturbing Ranboo and Tubbo from their late daze. 

Phil announced, "Ponk. I think I've decided."

The old friend turned around and raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"You said get some closure, yes? I think I'm tired of running from closure."

Ponk only looked concerned as he set down the bowls in his hands. "I told you, you don't have to do it," he said, "it was only a silly request."

"Silly request or not, my boys can't live in the woods forever."

"It's quite a walk," Alyssa spoke, her words slurred with sleepiness. "It will take weeks to arrive."

"And the destination isn't pretty, Phil. The land is completely deserted, I think."

Phil shook his head and picked up Tubbo, who had fallen back to sleep. "We'll follow. I'll pack tonight and we'll meet here tomorrow morning. I've been avoiding things for too long, Ponk. I think...I think this'll be good for us."

"Yeah?"

"...Yes."

Ponk smiled behind his mask and replied, "Then it is settled. We leave at dawn. Bring food and good clothes, it'll be awhile until you return," he went to leave, but stopped and turned back around. "And bring good shoes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters in! Sorry there's lots of talking, but that's how we roll. I hope you all enjoyed! <3 (tags will be updated as well)


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